


Flightless Bird

by satbiym



Series: Flightless Bird [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Dominance, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Omega!Victor, alpha!yuuri, the banquet reimagined, they mostly go on a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satbiym/pseuds/satbiym
Summary: Figure Skating was not a platform for Omegas....And yet....“How about we dance for it?”Victor looked up wide-eyed, startled, as a small smile twitched at Yuuri’s lips. Or what really happened the night of the GPF.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you theseniorcitizen for listening to me, and lookiamnotcreative for your advice after my ridiculous questions *facepalm*, also thank you for your brilliant translations and meta, it inspired me to write this .  
> You're both brilliant.  
> And thank you, Reader. I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> EDIT: Now a series!

Victor was tired. His knees ached, his feet were bloody and sore and his face hurt with all the smiles he had thrown out whenever someone brought up retirement. The knot in his neck grew tighter and tighter the more he thought about the day. Since when did a gold medal bring up questions of retirement? Since the gold medalist dared to turn 27, he supposed.

 

So he sat in his hotel room and -  away from the screaming questions and the sly smiles looking for the barest hint of exhaustion - hunched, breaking his picture perfect posture born out of years of dancing, skating and Yakov’s stern instructions. And he took a deep breath. He was carrying a 20 year old knot in his shoulder and he just wanted-

 

It didn’t matter what he wanted, he reminded himself. He knew what he would  be giving up when he clutched the Letter 6 years ago, and had decided to go on skating despite his….situation.

But Victor had been fighting defects he had been born with for all his life, first when his body decided to betray him, lost its shapeless form and grew broad and muscled, later when his knee refused to heal from a landing gone wrong, and then when his damn biology had declared him to be an Omega against all odds.

 

 _One in 1000,_ he remembered thinking, shocked. You could always count on Victor to surprise you, the commentators used to say, voices tinged with awe and admiration (and isn’t it frustrating when unpredictability become predictable?) when Victor first started out in the Senior Division. But what will those same commentators, with their booming voices and Beta mannerisms say if they knew the biggest surprise of all? That the crème de la crème of figure skating was an _Omega?_

 

Figure skating, a sport that had started out as a way for aristocratic Alphas to distinguish themselves, as the ultimate mating dance…..was now being ruled by an Omega?

 

Victor chuckled, and to think the only surprise he had left in his repertoire, he couldn’t use. Cruel fate.

 

The gold coloured chains in his costume jingled metallically, as he rocked back and forth. Silver hair softly tickling his cheek, and Victor thought back to how his long hair used to completely hide his face when he needed a second to reassess or readjust, from reporters or zealous fans.

He missed his long hair, he mused.

 

The hand in his hair tightened, strands pulled tight, peeking from within his fingers. He was tired of giving, and giving, and giving. For the first time in his life, he wanted something for himself. Something to remember this gold by. Let it be a celebration, instead of a reminder of another year passed.

 

He wanted to, for the first time in his life, not have to think and worry about every decision he made. He wanted to let go.

He wanted to live.

 

Decision made, Victor let go of his hair, and barrel rolled over to where his phone was charging. He had a night to save.

 

* * *

 

 

The Alpha Victor had been promised was none other than Yuuri Katsuki.

 

Victor stared in horror as the Alpha in question sat with his legs splayed, eyes (thankfully) covered by a blindfold, as Victor had demanded in his requests at the confidentiality-bound Mating Club, _Heat,_ that catered to celebrities in Sochi.

 

Yuuri Katsuki’s face inched upwards, nose perched in air, and he breathed in, and Victor knew what he would smell. Victor’s Omega pheromones, that he’d revealed by washing away the scent-nulling shampoo two minutes ago, would had given him away if the swish of the door hadn’t already. His hair still coolly damp from the shower, and the newly earthed scent, in the company of an Alpha made his scent stronger than ever.

 

But Yuuri Katsuki made no move to move, he sat in his hard-backed chair and waited patiently.

 

The move was Victor’s, the posture seemed to say.

 

Victor had a decision to make. Should he risk exposing his oldest secret to his competition? The very boy - no, man - who had walked away from him the very same night, when Victor had offered a commemorative photo? That was the first time Victor had really paid attention to Yuuri Katsuki, _Japan’s Ace,_ commentators had bellowed a couple of hours ago,   _Omega,_ his competition had cautiously whispered after theatrically looking left-and-right.

 

Who was this boy? Why did everyone think he was an Omega? Why did he let them think so? Victor felt a tendril of irrational anger at the thought. _Who gave him the right?_

 

Well, Victor leaned straighter, Victor hadn’t reached where he was by playing it safe.

 

Victor’s eye followed the lithe lines of Yuuri’s body, the lean chest and subtly muscled arms that sultrily whispered of hidden strength, the relaxed arrangement of his legs, and followed them to the tip of Yuuri’s feet which must be aching and bleeding like Victor’s. And then he saw it, the sky blue cushion between his feet.

 

Heart suddenly beating faster than it had been, Victor swallowed, and moved forward tentatively, only to be stopped by Yuuri’s head tilting sideways minutely at the sound of Victor’s rustling clothes.

 

Victor inwardly hit himself, he knew what Yuuri wanted. And he wanted to be a good Omega. But, he steeled himself, he couldn’t. He might still want to give into the urge to run out of the room.

 

So, he pursed his lips and took a louder-than-necessary step brushing his hands in his clothes, making the red silk shirt crinkle noticeably. Yuuri pursed his lips, but remained silent, head still cocked like Makkachin, without the quizzical air.

 

Victor, before he could think himself out of it, threw himself gracefully into the cushion. Knees landing with a thump dulled by the cushion. Heart in his throat he clenched his fists and waited to see what Yuuri would do.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor could feel the heat of Yuuri’s thigh, so close to his cheek. Face in the middle of parted legs, as he stared defiantly up to Yuuri’s placid face.

 

A beat. Two.

 

The muscles around Yuuri’s mouth tensed, like he was about to speak, and Victor prepared himself, sure he was about to get punished for not taking off his clothes when he had the chance, for it was only polite to do so before his first scene with an Alpha.

 

“May I?” A quiet, accented voice spoke. Gentle but firm.

 

Victor twitched back, as he saw in his haste to focus on Yuuri’s face, he had missed the hand that had risen up from Yuuri’s thigh and was extended towards his face, fingers not as long as Victor’s himself, but still intimidatingly large up close.

 

Victor stayed silent, not trusting himself to speak.

 

The Alpha nodded decisively, and the hand retreated, settling back on the thigh, the heat tickling Victor’s cheek because of the teasing proximity.

 

“My name is Yuuri, what may I call you?” Yuuri said, voice managing to not disturb the tranquil heat of the moment.

 

Victor clenched his fist and stayed silent. After a moment, Yuuri nodded like he’d received the answer he had wanted. They sat (kneeled, in Victor’s case) in silence for a shrill silence.

 

“How about we dance for it?”

 

Victor looked up wide-eyed, startled as a small smile twitched at Yuuri’s lips.

 

“I win and you tell me what exactly you would like from me, and if you win….well, what would you like from me?”

 

Victor blinked. _What did he want from this dangerous stranger?_ A journey into subspace? Sex?

 

No.

 

“You tell me everything about yourself, if I win. That’s what I want” Victor said, deepening his voice.

 

Yuuri reeled back, showing surprise for the first time in this ridiculous encounter. Victor smiled. Seemed he hadn’t lost the element of surprise after all.

 

Yuuri smiled, slow and dangerous.

 

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri Katsuki moved like his body was creating music.

 

This wasn’t what he had seen in during the Grand Prix Final.

 

Yuuri laughed unconsciously as the music swelled, almost like the laugh had been wrenched from him. He threw his head back, eyes still blindfolded, and twisted his body, drawing Victor’s body with him like a lover.

 

Victor was bewitched.

 

A thin layer of sweat coated both their bodies, as Yuuri’s hands confidently guided Victor in the dance. Moving from one pose to another, Victor lost himself in the dance. He jumped, he twisted, he bent back on Yuuri’s cues; it was like he was back on the ice. He remembered this feeling, skating, with his long hair loose twirling like ribbons behind him. When the only person he had to impress was himself.

 

Victor’s breath hitched, as Yuuri tenderly wrapped a gentle hand behind his head, the other hand slowly creeping down his left thigh, slowly raising it. And Victor followed, eyes not moving from where Yuuri’s would be, curling his back, as his leg rose up.

 

For a beat they stayed in that position, as Yuuri laughed, softer now, and Victor could well imagine those eyes he had last seen so devastated across the room, lighting up with joy, and Victor - for one second - wanted to throw caution to the wind and run a finger from Yuuri’s forehead to the tip of his nose, drawing the blindfold with it, revealing all.

 

The music swelled as they stood, and for the first time in a long time Victor realized that he was having fun. Victor Nikiforov, had fun all the time - on ice, with his teammates, even with Yuri, but this was the first time Victor, the man, was having fun….with someone who wasn’t Makkachin.

 

Victor let himself be tugged smoothly upwards and closed his eyes. Yuuri’s Alpha scent and his own, stronger because of the sweating, mixing smoothly in the air, making a warm flush crawl up Victor’s face.

 

He had a feeling he had started something he wasn’t sure he could finish.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, Sweetheart, I am not sure who won that match.” Yuuri said, face, close to Victor’s, red with exertion. Victor looked up sharply at the endearment, and raised his eyebrow.

 

Yuuri reddened more, “What, I don’t know you name, do I? And I have to call you something!”

 

“Vitya. You can call me that.” Victor surprised himself by saying, only for Yuuri to jerk back, out of Victor’s arms, face losing all its color.

 

“W-What?”

 

Victor, confused, repeated himself, “You can call me Vitya.”

 

Yuuri licked his lips, seemingly nervous, and tucked his hands into his pockets. With his white shirt, wrinkled beyond repair, (ugly) blue tie loosened, and hair falling into his eyes, he looked nothing like someone who could lead Victor around a room, and yet……

 

Appearances, it seemed could be deceiving.

 

“Alright.” Yuuri nodded rapidly. “V-Vitya, it is.”

 

Victor looked with narrowed eyes as Yuuri’s voice became hoarse at the end of the sentence.

 

Yuuri shook himself out of whatever it was eating at him, and smiled broadly, distractingly, like a shiny toy at the corner of your eye. Victor blinked at the transformation.

 

 _Seems like we’re both playing at being someone we’re not…..or is it that we’re finally free to be someone we always were?_  

 

Victor, refusing to examine that thought in further detail, decided to let himself be distracted, and smiled, “Let’s say we both did.”

 

Yuuri turned to face Victor more fully, if the blindfold wasn’t there, Victor could bet those big doe-eyes of his would be zoning into his.  And he smiled a slow smile, “Alright then, say we did. Then do I get my end of the deal?”

 

Damn, he’d walked right into the trap. Well, quasi-trap.

 

So, Victor did what he always did whenever he felt out of step.

 

He smiled, thickened his accent, leaned in, closer to Yuuri and said “Well Alpha, you only ever had to ask. Would you like me to tell you all the things I want you to do to me? In detail?”

 

Yuuri’s cheeks darkened. Damn, he blushed easily didn’t he? Victor offhandedly thought of how low it went, but the thought felt forced. Victor clenched his fist, of course Yuuri wanted to have sex, why else would he be here? In a _Mating_ Club? It went to reason that some actual mating was required.

 

Well, then. He would do what Victor Nikiforov did best, and Perform.

 

Yuuri stepped backwards, hands coming up in the universal symbol for back-away, palms help parallelly to his chest, shaking his head.

“N-No. I just. Want….”

 

Victor’s eyes sharpened, sensing weakness, and he stepped forward so that even Yuuri could hear it, and felt vindicated seeing the tiny flinch in Yuuri’s countenance.

 

Omega, though he may be, Victor Nikiforov backed down from no one. Not the Alphas of the world, not the press who wanted him to retire in obscurity, nor the other skaters in the cut-throat world of figure skating. He stared in derision at Yuuri. If he was in Yuuri’s place he would have pushed and pushed until the other person fell down in defeat.

 

Though, he thought with a pang, this isn’t a battlefield. This was the age-old meeting between an Alpha and Omega.

 

Yuuri straightened, lifting his head high and in a firm voice quivering with a certain something Victor couldn’t identify, recited “My name is Yuuri Katsuki. I’m a figure skater.”

He wanted Victor to trust him, that much was obvious. And he wasn’t afraid of giving away his much-protected secret to do it. But why did the comfort of some random, anxious Omega matter so much?

 

Yuuri continued, not moving from his spot in the room, yet it seemed like the words were being ripped from his hands, “I am from Japan, my family owns a hot spring resort,” and he smiled slightly as he said this, unwittingly.

 

Victor’s eyes widened, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable, like he was taking something that wasn’t his, and stepped forward, and stuttered, “Wait. I-”

 

But Yuuri went on like he didn’t hear Victor, and continued, “I promised my coach I will go to the banquet, but I came here instead. I want - needed…. Something. And then you came in, and suddenly I felt like I could find it….Whatever it was that could make this horrible feeling in my chest go away. And I think I could help you too. But you have to trust me to do that, and I know that’s not easy to do, especially not with someone you just met. But we could try?” he ended hesistantingly.

 

Victor was stunned silent, which was a rare occasion as Yakov would growl.

 

Unlike what Victor previously thought, Yuuri wasn’t backing down. He was giving Victor space, and wasn’t too proud to twist his own arm to make sure Victor had space to breathe.

Victor blinked at the sudden thought.

It wasn’t a competition to him. He was just trying to make Victor comfortable.

 

People like Yuuri weren’t afraid of ripping open their skin and revealing their guts to the world. Unlike Victor who hid his flaws with his pretty word and, a flash of a smile and a wink. But Victor wasn’t sure he could bare himself like that, not even for one night. But…..who would know that this needy Omega was none other than Victor Nikiforov? Not Yuuri certainly.

 

Victor drew his hand away from where it was cupping his chin, and made a decision.

 

“Okay. I will try. With you.”

 

The smile on Yuuri’s face could’ve powered a few hundred towns in Russia. Despite himself, Victor felt an answering twitch in his lips.

 

Then, finally, Yuuri came over, and despite his height, managed to tower over Victor, and laid his palm on Victor’s face. Examining that smile up close was like staring into the sun without protective eye-wear. A faint realization that this wasn’t a good idea, and the thrill of doing the forbidden.

 

Victor smiled slowly, he was going to be just fine.

* * *

 

 

“Comfortable, Sweetheart?”

 

Victor hummed, too lost in the sensation of having his hands and feet bound as he knelt on the blue cushion, the heat from Yuuri’s thighs enveloping him, bringing a warm flush to his face.

 

Suddenly, Victor hissed as the hands that was previously carding through his hair tightened and pulled, “Words, please, Sweetheart.”

 

“Yes, Alpha.” Victor said, ducking his head.

 

Yuuri hummed back, and his hands tilted Victor’s head onto his thigh, and smiled.

 

“I’m glad.”

 

* * *

 

“Alpha?” Victor asked, half-upset at shattering the warm calm that had descending upon them. Victor’s head felt fuzzy with the warmth.

 

Yuuri hummed questioningly.

 

Victor paused, unsure he wanted to open the can of worms, and asked, “Why do you not call me by my name?”

 

Yuuri stiffened. He would never be an actor, charming as he was, Victor mused, his every thought was transcribed on his face. But it was…..soothing, to be with someone who wanted exactly what he said.

 

Before he could examine that train of thought too deeply, Yuuri said, “Your name reminds me of someone, that’s all. And while we’re here I don’t want to think of anyone but you.”

 

Victor, against his permission, blushed. He wondered if he should push further…..but what if the person he reminded Yuuri of was….himself? No. Best not to push it.  

So, he did the next best thing and nuzzled into Yuuri’s hand, settled for the first time in a long time.

* * *

 

 

“Would you like me to take care of that for you?” Yuuri asked randomly.

 

Victor looked up, alarmed.

 

“Your knee, I mean, you keep grimacing. Is it giving you trouble?” Yuuri clarified to Victor silent horror. But then Victor internally shook himself, there is no way Yuuri would conclude that the knee pain was because of a 10 year old injury.

 

“Take care, how?” Victor asked, finding it hard to word his sentences properly.

 

Yuuri smiled softly, “Well, I could massage your legs for you. I’ve...heard it helps.”

 

Victor started, not expecting this turn of conversation. It seemed Yuuri kept surprising him at every opportunity.

 

“What do you say? There is some oil in the drawer there. Let me help ease your pain, Sweetheart.”

 

Victor could only nod.

* * *

 

 

“My dog’s name was Victor, he died today.”

 

Victor shivered as the whisper permeated the air, like an open wound, the voice whispering the words, like a secret into Victor’s ears, the vibration thrumming down his body. They were curled up on the sinfully large bed, with Victor tucked protectively inside of Yuuri. Legs entangled and Yuuri’s hands clutching his own, Victor felt cocooned, like nothing could touch him.

 

Victor felt his eyes well up, as he realized what that raw thing he had been smelling on Yuuri the whole time was. A broken family bond. No wonder he had flopped on his program. If Makkachin had……

Victor tightened his fingers in Yuuri hands.

 

He felt chapped lips press on the side of his throat, sending a bolt of electricity into his stomach.

 

And he closed his eyes and dreamt.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> :))))))  
> Thank you for reading!


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